The knob of the bedroom door turned; the door creaked open. In thedimness, all Tessa could see was shadows as someone stepped into theroom. She lunged forward, swinging the heavy ceramic pitcher with allher strength —

The shadowy figure moved, quick as a whip — but not quite quickenough; the pitcher slammed into its outstretched arm before flyingfrom Tessa’s grasp to crash into the far wall. Broken crockery raineddown onto the floor as the intruder yelled in pain.To Tessa's surprise, the yell was undeniably a masculine one. So wasthe flood of cursing that followed it.

She backed away, then dashed for the door — but it had slammed shutafter the intruder, and tug as she would on the knob, it wouldn’tbudge. She spun around, just as bright light blazed through the roomas if the sun had risen.

Tessa blinked away the tears in her eyes — and stared.

There was a boy standing in front of her. He couldn’t have been much morethan a few years older than she was — seventeen or possibly eighteen.He was dressed in what looked like workman’s clothes: a frayed blackjacket and trousers, and tough-looking boots. He wore no waistcoat,but a a thick leather belt with a number of weapons hanging off itcircled his waist — daggers and folding knives and things that lookedlike blades of ice.

In his right hand, he held what looked like a sort of stone — it was shining,providing the light in the room that had nearly blinded Tessa. Hisother hand — narrow and long-fingered — was bleeding where she hadgashed the back of it with her pitcher.

But that wasn’t what had made her stare. He had the most beautiful face shehad ever seen. Tangled black hair and eyes like blue glass. A scaracross his right cheek that somehow didn’t mar his looks but onlyenhanced them. He looked like every fictional hero she’d ever imaginedin her head. Except she’d never imagined one of them cursing at herwhile shaking their bleeding hand in an accusing fashion.

He seemed to realize she was staring at him, because the cursing stopped.

“You cut me,” he said. His voice was pleasant. British. Very ordinary.He looked at his hand with critical interest. "Now, is that any way totreat someone who's just trying to rescue you?"